‘Oh, Vanessa …’ Her voice was mocking, but she gave me a long sad look. ‘I did not think you were so greedy.’
‘What?’ Startled and shaken to the core, I was left breathless for a moment. ‘What do you —?’
‘Here we are!’ Richie was back, a plate of miniature pastries in one hand, sugar bowl and milk jug in the other. ‘Kettle will be boiling in a minute.’ He took far too much time pulling over a small table and arranging the things on it.
‘You should have brought a tray,’ Madame criticized.
‘Right! Sorry! Next trip.’ He started for the door. ‘Be right back.’
That was what I was afraid of. He didn’t intend to leave me alone with Madame long enough to have any sort of conversation. Unless I worked fast.
‘Madame —’
‘You’re right, this is easier.’ He was faster. With a rattle of crockery and a clash of cutlery, Richie swept back into the parlour, dealing out cups, saucers, cake plates, teaspoons and pastry forks.
He had brought three of everything, a clear declaration that he was going to join us, to monitor our meeting.
Obviously I was going to get nothing more out of this visit than a cup of tea and a badly thawed strawberry tart.
For a brief second, Madame met my eyes and I could not mistake the flash of annoyance — and warning. It threw a new light on to the situation. Perhaps it was not just me he distrusted, perhaps it was Madame.
Was he her nurse, her carer — or her jailer?
I had to appear unconcerned. Vague and unconcerned, that was the ticket. As though her decision didn’t really matter greatly. But not too unconcerned.
‘Monica, I’m beginning to feel terribly guilty,’ I confided shyly as I accepted my preprandial glass of sherry from her. ‘I really should be getting back to work. I can’t go on just being a … a freeloader here when everyone else has a job to do. It makes me feel so useless.’
‘You haven’t heard any of us complain, have you?’ Monica gave me a forgiving smile along with the sherry. I hadn’t mentioned the body since Anderson’s injection; she thought she was winning.
‘You’ve all been wonderful.’ I felt Ivor staring at me and tried not to notice. ‘But I know I’m not pulling my weight. And the rest of you are so busy. I really would like to get back to work — or, at least, try to.’
‘That might not be such a bad idea,’ Monica said slowly. ‘It could help get your mind off … your other problems. You might even start remembering things again, once you get back into the swing of your usual routine.’
The hostility was back
. It struck me like a physical blow. I glanced around quickly, but couldn’t pinpoint the source of it. Monica was still smiling at me, it seemed impossible that she hadn’t felt it, too.
‘Perhaps tomorrow,’ a voice said behind me.
‘Thank you, Shadow.’ Monica beamed her smile over my shoulder.
I turned in time to see the man in black withdraw and
close the door. Shadow was a good name for him. My tensed muscles relaxed as I found I no longer felt the hatred that had lashed out at me so unexpectedly I knew he didn’t like me but …
‘Shall we —?’ Monica began, but the others were already moving towards the dining room. She shrugged at me and we fell in behind them.
Ivor was waiting for us. He gave me a self-satisfied smirk and nodded his head in approval. ‘I think it will do you a world of good to come back to the office.’
I was immediately uneasy. If he was pleased, I must have done something wrong.
Whatever Nessa’s real role had been in the Oversall scheme of things, it was obvious that I was not going to be allowed to step back into it. Not immediately. Not until I had proved myself.
‘We thought we ought to start you off with something light.’ Candy flashed that sharklike smile at me as she pulled out the chair at a desk almost buried under a mountain of blank envelopes.
‘You won’t remember, but Everett is such a stickler for propriety that he insists every Christmas card he sends must be hand-addressed.’
They must have decided that the Public Relations office was the best place to slot me into. I couldn’t do any damage there. Except, perhaps, to myself.
‘He certainly has a lot of friends.’ I tried to keep the dismay out of my face. Not only were there all those envelopes covering the desktop, but further boxes were stacked beside and behind it.
Writer’s cramp in waiting. I was glad I had taken the precaution of wearing the wrist support bandage.
‘Oh, these are just for the worldwide staff,’ Candy laughed. ‘Every single employee in every one of his enterprises gets a personal card from him. It’s not just
public
relations we have to keep up to speed with. It’s important to keep all our workers happy too.’
How about the Poor Bloody Infantry they expected to address all those cards? This was the secretarial equivalent of being set to wash dishes in a busy restaurant. It was enough to drive a girl back to the chorus line.
Or to her own quarters with one of the headaches that seemed to be endemic around here. I was beginning to understand why.
‘I’ll have a go.’ With a brave, game smile, I waggled my bandaged wrist in her face. ‘But I don’t know how well I’ll do. I’m afraid I might be a bit slow.’
‘There’s no hurry. We always start early and the others will help out if you’re overwhelmed.’ Those teeth flashed again. ‘Ivor’s calligraphy is fantastic. And Nina can be quite good, too — when she puts her mind to it.’
That did it! I dropped into the chair and pulled the first stack of envelopes towards me.
‘Take your time,’ Candy cooed. ‘When you get tired, or if your wrist starts aching, you can pack it in until tomorrow. We have plenty of time in hand.’
Maybe you have!
My teeth might not be so sharp or white — or expensive — but I bared them at her anyway as I nodded.
‘And if it is too much for you, you mustn’t hesitate to tell me. You don’t have to do it, you know. We’re all quite happy to carry you for a while longer until you’re fully recovered. The minute you’re feeling tired, you must go and lie down. Everyone will understand.’
I’ll bet they would! It
was just what they wanted. Dear Nessa, frail and fragile — and safely out of the way.
I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. Grinding my teeth quietly, I settled down to work.
During the afternoon, I became aware that I was under fairly constant surveillance. People would appear in the doorway and look in on me, then disappear again.
I kept my head down and appeared too absorbed in my task to notice. At some point, a cup of tea materialized by my elbow, unsettling me. I hadn’t heard anyone bring it in; I must have worked myself into a trance. And this was no place to let down my guard.
There was no biscuit with the tea and no milk or sugar in it. After a couple of sips, I abandoned the dark odd-flavoured brew. Perhaps it was herbal but, if I couldn’t identify it, I wasn’t going to drink it.
Candy spent most of her time on the telephone, talking in a firm cajoling voice about various projects under way and in the offing. People I had not seen before came and went. I realized there must be a substantial office force who came in by the day. More suspects? Or just innocent office staff carrying out their duties, forgetting everything when they clocked off at 5 p.m.?
They paid no attention to me, however, which made a refreshing change. No one claiming friendship, no one suggesting unspecified alliances, no one enquiring solicitously about my present state of health — everyone was completely indifferent to me. I was just another pair of hands around the office doing a menial job. Perhaps a temp, it was the sort of job they did.
Their behaviour also confirmed my suspicion that Nessa had not normally worked in this area of the building. I knew from her letters that she had an office of her own. It was obviously somewhere else. I intended to find it — if they’d let me.
On the plus side, Í was in the Business Wing of the building, even though I had limited access to the more interesting parts of it.
I waited until Candy had a telephone call she seemed to be particularly involved in, then approached her desk with a slightly embarrassed air.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said as she looked up, ‘but I’m afraid I haven’t the faintest idea where the loo is. If you could give me directions -?’
‘Just a moment,’ she said. ‘I’ll show you.’
‘No, no,’ I protested. ‘You’re too busy. I don’t want to interrupt. Just point me in the right direction. Or perhaps one of the girls could —’
‘We’ll talk later,’ she said into the telephone and slammed it down impatiently, but rallied with a forbearing smile for me. ‘Just come along, Nessa.’
It had been worth a try. I ground my teeth again as she led the way down a corridor and through several turnings. I managed to catch a glimpse into some of the rooms along the way before she stopped at a closed door.
‘In here,’ she said, opening it. ‘I’ll wait for you.’
‘Oh, that won’t be necessary. I’m sure I’ll be able to find my own way back.’
‘I’ll wait.’ She pulled the door closed behind me. At least she didn’t try to come in with me. When I turned around, I could see why. It was a one-person place, a good-sized room that had been transformed into a disabled facility. Rather, one corner of it had been, as the appliance surrounded by strategically placed grab bars and the low-sited sink testified. The rest of the room was on the luxurious side, with a low dressing table complete with all accessories in sterling silver, a vase of fresh hothouse flowers and a bottle of mineral water. Beside another table was a motor-operated recliner and a reading lamp. The magazines on the table were the current issues of French, German, Spanish and Italian glossies, as well as their English counterparts. The soapdish by the sink held a bar of expensive French floral soap and fluffy Turkish towels were on the towel rack.
Above all, there was space; lots of uncluttered space, room for a wheelchair to move around in and turn easily.
It was clear that I was in Madame’s private boudoir. I wondered if that wide door on the opposite side of the room opened into her own office. And whether she was occupying it —?
No luck. The knob turned, but the door didn’t budge.
I stooped and tried the keyhole, but all I could see was the key in place on the other side of the lock.
‘Nessa.’ There was a sharp rapping on the door I had entered through. ‘Nessa — are you all right?’
Damn!
What was she doing — timing me?
‘Yes, yes … coming.’ I flushed the toilet ostentatiously and ran the hot water full force.
For good measure, I pinched my cheeks to get them suitably red, although sheer annoyance had given them a pink glow that could pass for embarrassment.
‘Sorry,’ I apologized. ‘I … I was feeling a bit dizzy and had to sit down for a minute.’
‘It’s all right. I didn’t mean to rush you,’ Candy said, although the pace at which she was striding back to her office said otherwise. ‘Perhaps you’ve done enough for today. We don’t want to knock you out your first day back.’ Again, her tone suggested that that was just what she would like to do.
‘Perhaps I
should
take time for a nap before dinner,’ I agreed.
‘You could have dinner in your room —’
‘Oh, no, I’ll be quite all right after a nap. I must get back into the proper routine. It will be good for me.’
‘I suppose so,’ she said reluctantly.
‘On the other hand …’ I decided to change my mind. The thought of the long evening dragging out after dinner gave me pause. Also, I had already decided that there might be more to learn in the Business Wing than in the dining room.
‘Perhaps it
would
be a good idea if I had an early night after all this exertion. Then I’ll be nice and fresh to face those envelopes in the morning.’
‘If you’re sure you’re feeling strong enough to carry on with them …’
Why did I get the impression that she didn’t really want me hanging around her office, that she had drawn the
short straw when it came to keeping me occupied, but sidelined?
‘Oh, I will be,’ I assured her blithely. ‘I’m just aching to get on with the job. You can depend on me.’
‘Oh, good,’ she said, with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ It was nearly midnight and the message Anderson had smuggled to me had implied that he’d be earlier than that. I snatched his arm and yanked him inside, banged the door shut and slammed him up against it.
Tut-tut, you’ve been reading your private eye books again … Nessa.’ He rubbed his arm ruefully. ‘However would you explain it if anyone had seen you?’
‘Never mind being cute! They didn’t. There’s no one around to see anything.’
‘Then perhaps I should only talk to you when there are witnesses around.’ He rubbed harder and winced. ‘It might be safer.’
‘Don’t worry, you’re perfectly safe.’ He must be feeling more relaxed with me, if he could begin to make jokes. Either that or —
‘How is she?’ I demanded.
‘I think — I don’t want to raise any false hopes —’ his face brightened, he almost smiled — ‘but I think she’s going to make it.’
‘Thank God!’ I slumped into a chair.
‘We’re a long way from out of the woods yet,’ he warned. ‘And I can’t guarantee just what the … the residual damage … might be.’
‘She’ll live.’
‘Possibly … probably … but …’
‘But what?’ I fought against the knowledge he was trying to impart. ‘That’s enough. For now.’
‘Exactly,’ he said. ‘For now. As for the future —’ He shrugged. ‘I suppose what I really want to say is that one option is closed to us now.’
‘Option?’ This was the first I’d heard of there being any. ‘What option?’
‘Er…’ He didn’t want to tell me. He avoided my eyes.
‘What option?’ If I had to force it out of him, I would.
‘Well… we don’t have to make the choice about pulling the plug. She’s functioning on her own now.’
‘Pull the plug?’ He was right not to want to say it. I nearly hit him. I wanted to kill him for even thinking such a thing. ‘That was never an option!’
‘Immaterial now.’ He shrugged. ‘In fact, we took her off the machine yesterday and she’s doing fine on her own.’